When I'm Messed Up That's the Real Me
by TC Stark
Summary: *Contains Spoilers* After contemplating the current events in his life, Blaine contacts Liv with a proposition that has our favorite zombie conflicted as to what to do. This is a one-shot and contains Bliv undertones.


TC Stark: Hello all! So, I have been feeling such a lack of inspiration for writing lately and it has honestly depressed me. I'm glad that I at least had the spark to write this one shot for iZombie. For anyone who is also a fan, who do you ship more? I have been on a Babbimoore ship as of late, but I'm a sucker for my ol' faithful - Bliv. So, this isn't a lemon, just something angsty, set in season 2. This does contain spoilers, so just FYI. Anyway, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. The title of the story was inspired by The Hills by The Weekend, with an obvious substitution of "fucked up" to "messed up", since I don't think Fanfiction allows profanities in the title.

" _Zombie Blaine...he was the man."_

Blaine truly believed that. It was something he thought of often; not just when he was getting drunk after having to make the hardest decision of his life. It wasn't because of finding out his father had missing or even because of his grandfather; ever since that Liv Moore has stabbed the cure into him - he couldn't stop looking back on his zombie months as the best time of his existence.

Sure, there was the last of taste buds - everything needed to be spicy. Wine had been a sort of hobby for Blaine, but he would give it all away to be a zombie again. Being part of the undead had given him more motivation than he ever had. Before then, he was just a small time drug dealer, making a fool out of himself, and having drinks thrown at him at boat parties. Events like that weren't fun; they were sad. A sad display at mindless humans wasting away their lives. That was the human him - zombie him...had motivation.

Even with his current venture, it just didn't feel the same. A morgue. A _morgue._ Sure, zombies were the undead, but these poor saps were really dead. Everything had to be respectful, morbid; speaking in soft tones. His brain business was operated in the basement and as a human, he just couldn't appreciate it they way he used to. But, when he had Meat Cute, when he wasn't part of the living, everything just felt more successful. Classier. Hell - even the cuisine was dressed to impress, unlike the bland merchandise he had now.

None of the zombies who worked for Blaine knew he walked amongst the living. Part of him feared that if they did know they would stop listening to him; or feel angered that the man who turned all of them was _fortunate_ enough to be cured. If only he could tell them to savor every moment they got, for being mortal was awful.

Blaine had sent the boys home early - told them to enjoy themselves. It was a Saturday night, _go._ Hell, old him would have walked into a club, tried unsuccessfully to hit on any easy looking girl and have sloppy sex, followed by a mean hangover. And it was just that routine, repeated for more years than he wanted to admit.

"Thanks for coming, Liv." Blaine sighed, looking down at the half eaten sushi in front of him and the almost finished bottle of wine.

As Liv walked down the stairs of the morgue, she sighed at the sight of Blaine yet again, drunk, "Why did you call me here? I'm getting a little tired of seeing you prepping for tomorrow's nasty hangover."

Blaine let out a small snort, followed by a light chuckle and a spin of the chair he was on. He didn't even need the cure's side effect of detecting zombies to know Liv was nearby. Somehow, he could just feel her in the room. Smell her body wash. The privileged man had never paid attention so closely to a woman's little details - certainly not with Jackie - but, with the petite medical examiner, he always did.

Slowly picking himself up from the seat, the lithe man mosied over to his favorite zombie and let out a half-hearted chuckle, "I gotta get back in the game, Liv."

"What do you mean?" She asked, eyebrows furrowing inwards in confusion.

"I need to be a zombie again."

A zombie? Was he insane? Looking incredulously at the brain dealer, Liv gawked, "Are you on drugs, Blaine."

"No, just a little tipsy," Motioning to the bottle, Blaine added, "But, it isn't the wine. I've been feeling like this for a while. I need to be a zombie again. My mind is made up."

Blaine must have been in a bad way. Liv had been seeing him decline every time they met. When she had first met him, he was lively. For a zombie of course. But, he seemed confident, energetic - driven. Lately, though; he had seemed to lose that will to be exceptional; now he just wilted.

Thickly swallowing, Liv took a step to the side and sighed, "Well...you may have your wish soon. Ravi...believes the cure is going to reverse itself."

As if not hearing the dread in her voice, the brain dealer shook his head and insisted, "I need it now."

"Did you not hear? You probably have a few weeks at best."

"It's not quick enough," Blaine's voice rose slightly, sharply reiterating, "I need to be a zombie, _now._ "

"Is someone threatening you?"

Shaking his head, Blaine took a step forward and proclaimed, "I can't be this anymore, Liv. I can't be mundane; _human_ again. I need to be exceptional again. I-I can't take it. I can't. I try to look at the upshots - y'know, taste buds, sunnier skins, but it's not worth it. Giving up being a zombie, it's not worth it."

Liv wanted to shake Blaine. Wanted to yell at him for being so hard headed. Truthfully, she didn't know why she was getting so upset. Everything in their past should have told her that this was a bad man. He murdered teenagers, her boyfriend Lowell, and turned a couple of hundred people into zombies. But yet, he just looked like a broken puppy - a son, who never had a moment to shine on his own. Who never felt good enough for his father's affections and being undead was the only way he felt like his own man finally.

Before Liv could say anything, Blaine got down on one knee and took a hold of one of her hands and looked up at her so desperately, "Liv...I...I will kill myself, if I stay a human. And I am not telling you this to make you feel guilty; I just need you to know...how desperate I am. I hate myself...I didn't hate myself as a zombie."

She shouldn't do this. She should not do this. Who was to say that as a zombie that Blaine wouldn't turn more people? Wouldn't go back to his business of killing people, as opposed to just waiting for bodies to come through. And if Major found out...there would never be a chance for one day them getting back together.

With a heavy sigh, Liv reached up and touched Blaine's cheek. She was going to tell him no. No. _No,_ "Are you sure about this?"

"More than sure."

Liv didn't even register that she can been dragging her nail along Blaine's cheekbone, until she touched up his lips. It caused her to reel back quickly, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt. God, what had she done? Turning Sebastian was one thing - she hadn't done it on purpose. And turning Major had been to save his life, but this...this was on purpose.

Perhaps Liv was too distracted to notice the tears forming in Blaine's eyes, as he got up and took a hold of the shorter person's face. The brain dealer swooped down and claimed her lips, just for a moment; before breathing in a choked fashion, "Thank you, Liv, thank you for helping me. You've given me my life back."


End file.
